A brother enticed
by Crotch-Mechanic
Summary: Wincest - Rated M - This story place after S3, ep12, Just in Bello - Chapter One: Dean tries to help Sam thru an emotional crisis but things go sideways. Chapter Two: Dean drunkenly confronts Sam about the evenings previous events but things go sideways, again! Chapter Three: Morning coming with difficult questions and declarations. Enjoy and thanks for reading.
1. Chapter 1

**by Crotch-Mechanic 05/30/18**

 **Revised 07/12/2018**

Sam was severely disturbed by the news report playing across the motels old box television.

While Dean was shocked by the current events being described, he was more shocked by his brother's reaction as Sam seemed to be suffering a panic attack. Dean turned to Ruby and said, "Get out!"

"Dean I think you guys might need my help now that Lilith has shown up." she replied.

Furious, Dean said, "When we want your help we'll ask for it. Now I said get out!"

Ruby stood her ground defiantly, so Dean began to recite the exorcism ritual causing her to flee, but not before giving him a look of abject hatred which he returned in kind.

Dean moved across their shabby motel room and turned off the television.

He moved to his brother's side and laid his hand upon his shoulder and said in his most soothing, authoritative tone, "Sammy calm down." It was more a command than a request.

Sam, running a hand through his hair while breathing rapidly said, "It's all our fault. They died because of us Dean!"

Dean could feel Sam trembling and see that he was sweating but he didn't really know how to respond. Everything Sam was saying was true. Lilith had killed the survivors at the sheriff's office in retaliation for helping the brothers escape. Dean knew it was the death of one survivor in particular that was most likely the cause of Sam's breakdown. The sheriffs' secretary Nancy. A young, devote girl who in the face of demonic terror had been so brave.

Dean wanting to ease his brother's distress thought for a second then said, "How bout a drink?"

Without waiting for a reply, he left his brother's side, crossed the room to the nightside table of his twin bed and poured out a shot of whiskey.

"This will help settle your nerves," he said as he returned to Sam and offered him the shot.

Sam took the shot more to please his brother then anything else but when he brought it up to his mouth and got a whiff of the strong scent of alcohol it made his stomach turn over. He quickly handed the shot back to Dean and ran for the bathroom where he positioned himself over the toilet and began to dry-heave.

"Okay," said Dean quietly, "no shot for you." He drank the shot himself, dumped the shot glass on the television and followed Sam into the bathroom.

Sam straightened up, turned to his brother and with a pained look said, "It's ok. I'm alright."

"The hell you are," replied Dean quietly.

Dean noticed the tub and said brightly, "How bout a bath?" That might help calm you down."

Sam just shrugged while blinking tears from his eyes.

Dean, talking more to himself, said, "Yeah, a nice warm bath. That will help soothe your nerves." He leaned down and turned the water to hot and flipped the tub's stopper.

He got another idea and said, "Stay right here; I'll be right back."

He dashed out of the motel to his car and began rifling thru the trunk. He came back with an assortment of candles and placed them around the bathroom and at both ends of the filing tub.

Once he finished with that he turned to his brother and said, "Ok, well, get undressed."

Sam make a weak protest that he didn't need a bath, but Dean was determined now and said, "It couldn't hurt, and you need a bath. You're filthy."

He stepped toward Sam, reached out and took hold of Sam's open shirt and striped it off his shoulders and down his arms. He cast it out the bathroom door. He then grabbed the bottom of Sam's t-shirt and started pulling it up. Sam obliged him by leaning forward and putting his arms out straight, so Dean could pull the t-shirt away and cast it in the same direction as the shirt.

The small bathroom began to fill with steam. Dean noticed and put his hand in the bath water and drew it back quickly, "Wow! That water is hot" he semi-shouted while shaking his hand dry. He turned the single faucet and adjusted the water to a more temperate flow.

Sam stood shirtless before his brother. He had wrapped his arms across his chest as he felt chilled.

Dean jokingly rubbed his hands together and said, "Let's get those pants off!"

Sam didn't respond as tears continued to stream down his face.

Dean augmented his tone accordingly and said softly, "Just have a seat Sammy," and reached behind Sam and put the toilet seat and the toilet cover down.

Sam sat, and Dean knelt before him and took off his brother's boots and socks, after which, he straightened up and gestured awkwardly to Sam saying only, "pants".

Sam sighed and then reluctantly stood and undid his belt and began unbuttoning his button-fly jeans.

Dean took this opportunity to light the all the candles about the room and douse the bathroom's harsh florescent lights. He smiled to himself satisfied that the candles were a good idea as the room now had a more somber, calming feel.

When Dean turned back, Sam was naked. It made him very uncomfortable to see Sam's lanky, muscular, frame naked.

Although Dean would never admit this in anything but a chiding way, he felt superior to his younger brother. He was the older brother, care-taker, mentor and while Sam could absolutely hold his own in a fight, and had on many occasions including tonight against a hoard of demons, Dean still thought of himself as the tougher of the two. He was sure he could kick his little brother's ass. He was also sure he was emotionally more resilient than Sam as this little breakdown was clearly demonstrating.

But standing now before his naked brother, Dean had to concede he was bested by his _Sammy_ in several ways. First was Sam's height as it irked Dean to no end that the had to look up to meet his "little" brother's eye. Sam stood at least three inches taller than Dean.

Then there was much more uncomfortable reality that Sam was not only bigger than Dean in height.

Dean would not allow himself to dwell on the matter beyond a fleeting thought, but it was an undeniable fact, Sam's penis was longer and thicker than his.

No matter what had passed between them through the years upon years of the many intimacies they had shared, this matter was never broached, not even in jest.

Dean's masculine ego was uncomfortable with anything beyond strict gender norms, and Sam, he was smart enough to leave well enough alone. Sam knew he was bigger, and he knew Dean knew and that was enough for him.

The tub now filled Dean shut the water off. He reached out and guided his brother to the tub saying gently , "Come on Sammy."

Dean offered Sam his hand to steady him as he stepped into the bath and lowered himself into the warm water.

It was almost comical how little of Sam's 6'4" frame was immersed in water. He leaned forward and hugged his knees as there was too little water to warm his core, and he still felt chilled.

Dean had thought once Sam was in the tub he would retreat from the bathroom and pour himself another shot of whiskey but now, seeing how pitiful his brother looked, he could not. Instead he said, "Just try to relax Sam."

"I'm cold," Sam responded.

Dean sighed heavily while he reached above the sink to the towel rack and pulled out a wash cloth. He then knelt beside the tub, soaked the wash cloth in the warm water and used it to bring up lots of water which he let cascade over his brother's body in the hope it would warm him. He found a travel size bottle of liquid soap and loaded the wash cloth with some and continued to rinse his brother.

When Sam was fully soaked and soapy, Dean began to wash him in earnest as Sam was covered in dust, ash, sweat and even a bit of blood.

"Take it easy," said Sam.

Dean realized he was washing his brother like he was a car.

"Sorry," Dean said quietly as he adjusted his touch and gently passed the wash cloth over his brother's body starting at his shoulders then moving down and washing his entire back.

Sam sniffled occasionally but Dean noticed he had stopped crying and seemed to be calming down. Sam scooped up hands full of water and rinsed his face of tears.

Dean continued methodically bathing his brother. He washed Sam's neck, front and back. He passed the wash cloth over Sam's chest making sure to wash under each arm. He reached down and quickly swept the cloth across Sam's tight abs being careful not to go to low all the while looking up at the ceiling.

Dean then put one hand on the middle of his brother's back just at the base of his neck and using the wash cloth as a buffer in his other hand, he pushed on Sam's chest. Sam responded by laying back so Dean could lower him into the tub.

With Sam's upper body now immersed in the shallow tub, Dean turned and moved down to the other end and began to wash Sam's feet. Again, working methodically, he washed Sam's feet including the souls and between each toe before moving up and washing each ankle.

As Dean worked up Sam's long legs, he had to turn to face his brother and when he did his gaze was drawn to Sam's penis which fully erect and poking up through the surface of the soapy water.

Shocked, Dean gasped and his gaze snapped up to meet his brother's.

Sam stared unflinchingly straight into his brother's eyes. While never breaking eye contact with him, Sam gripped the side of the tub and pulled himself up. He reached out, pulled the wash cloth from his brother's hand and let it fall into the tub. While continuing to hold Dean's gaze, Sam reached out and found Dean's open hand and filled it with some of the liquid soap from the bottle he found sitting on the edge of the tub.

He pulled Dean's hand forward and directed it.

Dean did not resist. He blanched and drew a sharp breath when he felt Sam's hard penis in his hand. He was now the one suffering a panic attack as his heart was beating mightily in his chest.

Sam gripped Dean's hand and moved it rhythmically up and down the shaft of his eight-inch penis while occasionally pulling it up and over the top of his penis's large, mushroom-like head in circular motions.

Sam was extremely horny, and the fact that he was using his brother's hand to masturbate was such a turn-on, it was only a few minutes before the whispered, "I'm going to cum."

Dean replied by saying his brother's name in a kind of a confused, croak "Sammy?"

Sam came. He tensed and said in a long, drawn out, deep, huff, "yeah" while large, spurts of bright, white cum spasmed into the soapy water. He gripped Dean's hand tightly around his penis until his orgasm subsided.

Dean was entranced by the sight of his brother having an orgasm.

Now that he had finished, Sam lowered Dean's hand into the water and washed it clean.

Dean followed his brother's gaze and watched as Sam cleaned his hand and when Dean looked back up, Sam again meet his gaze and looking straight into his eyes, simply said, "towel".

Dean shook his hand of excess water and stood up beside the tub as Sam began to rinse the soap from his body. Dean, in a bit of a stupor as his mind was having trouble processing what had just happened, stood beside the tub immobile.

"Dean, a towel," Sam said a little louder and more forcibly.

This spurred Dean into action. He took a towel from the rack as Sam stood up in the tub. After wiping his own hand dry, he handed it to Sam.

Sam took the towel from him and began to dry himself as Dean bolted from the room.

Dean found the shot glass he discarded earlier on top of the television. He quickly made for his bed and night side table on which sat his bottle of whisky from which he quickly poured out a shot.

He sat down on his bed with his back to the bathroom and downed the shot in one quick gulp.

While Dean was pouring his next shot, Sam, having extinguished all the candles, emerged from the bathroom with the towel wrapped around his waist carrying his pants, underwear, boots and socks. He placed his boots at the foot of his bed, stripped his belt from his pants and laid it in gentle folds over his boots as he did every night.

He gathered his discarded shirt and t-shirt from the floor and added all his day's clothing to the laundry bag set by the front door. He returned to his bed and drew a fresh t-shirt, a pair of underwear and a pair of lounge pants from his duffle bag beside his bed and now dressed for bed, he got into it.

With his back to Dean, he said over his shoulder, "I feel better now, thanks Dean."

There was a long, long silence until it was finally broken by Dean.

He simply said, "Good night Sammy."


	2. Chapter 2

Sam woke, and as he lay in bed, he could hear Dean moving about the room. With the room being as dark as it was, Sam figured it must still be very early in the morning. He rolled over and picked up the clock radio which sat on the small table between the two twin beds, and he saw that it was two-thirty in the morning.

He scanned the room, which was lit courtesy of the bathroom light and found Dean standing in the center of the room glaring back at him. Dean was fully dressed with his fists clenched at his sides. Sam could tell he was drunk by the way he was swaying a bit from side to side.

Sam asked cautiously, "What's up Dean?"

"I don't know what's up Sam," he bellowed, "maybe your cock!"

"Oh no," thought Sam, "here we go."

"Dean listen," he implored from his bed, "I'm sorry about that. What happened earlier, it just kind of happened in the moment. I didn't plan that or anything."

"Why did it happen at all!" raged Dean.

Sam turned from his brother and said to the wall, "I think because I'm so lonely."

"No," Dean rejected that argument out of hand and yelled, "so go out and find a girl and get laid. I mean come on Sammy. You can hook-up with any available chick you want if you're lonely."

"You think?," responded Sam.

"Come on Sammy," Dean said in mock disbelief. He held out one hand, fingers wide and counted off while saying, "you're as freakin handsome as they come, you're fit, young, you're what, seven feet tall? I see girls throw themselves at you all the time."

"But I feel trapped Dean." explained Sam.

"Trapped?," Dean echoed.

"I hate one-night stands. They make me feel lonelier, but I can't have any kind of relationship with a girl because it just puts a target on her back. But you know all this Dean. It's the same for you," he said gesturing toward him.

"It's not the same for me. I love one-night stands," Dean said while drunkenly poking himself in the chest for emphasis.

"Well lucky you Dean. You've got it all," Sam said sarcastically.

Dean shook his head and parroting Sam said mockingly, "You've got it all."

Wait," Dean said, struck by a thought, "are you telling me, I'm all you've got?"

Sam thought for a moment and replied, "Well, I guess, kinda."

Dean stood at the foot of his brother's bed in astonished disbelief. Did Sam just say that he, his brother, Dean, was his only option for a relationship?

Dean said, "I need a drink." He went to get another shot from his whiskey bottle but found it was empty. In a kind of drunken despair, he lowered himself onto his bed. With back to Sam, he slumped against the headboard.

Sam got out of bed and looked toward his brother. Sam was feeling a mixture of shame and embarrassment. He wasn't quite sure what he should do. Normally, when Dean was this drunk, he would help him disrobe and put him to bed, but he was leery to approach him now.

"Dean," Sam called softly.

"Yeah," Dean replied.

Sam asked, "Are you ok?"

"No, I am not freakin ok!" Dean bellowed, "I'm not ok with my brother telling me he wants to have a relationship with me! No Sam, I AM NOT OK!"

There came a pounding on the wall and man's muffled voice called, "Hey! Keep it down over there." Then the man added, "You freaks."

Dean gestured toward the wall and then pounded on it and yelled, "Mind you own business!"

Sam approached Dean slowly and sat beside him on the bed. Smiling, he said, "Maybe a bath will help calm you down."

"Not funny Sammy!" Dean seethed through clenched teeth.

Sam dropped the smile he had put on and said, "Ok, well, I think that's enough for tonight. Let's just go to bed."

"No, I don't want to," Dean said in a childish manner while crossing his arms.

Sam slid off the bed onto his knees.

Dean, in a panic, asked "What are you doing?"

Sam lifted his hands in a show of deference toward his brother and said softly, "I'm just going to take off your boots, so you can get into bed. Just like I have hundreds of times before." He began untying Dean's boots, and Dean let him while watching warily. Sam eventually slipped off both boots and set them at the foot of the bed like he did with his own boots each night which Dean never did. When he turned back, he was surprised to see Dean had started to cry.

"What's the matter Dean?" Sam asked.

"I'm sorry Sam," he answered.

"For what?" Sam questioned.

"For this life, for this lonely, messed up life that I have dragged you into. You should have finished school, married, had kids. You should have a real life," he said sadly.

Sam sat beside his brother once again and said, "Please don't blame yourself for how things are. You know we didn't have much of a choice in all this, and it's not all bad. We have good times, and we're doing good work."

Sam began pontificating and said, "I'm starting to appreciate that what were doing is living a life of service to something higher, to others. You know, like a nun or someone in the military. That kind of life comes with great sacrifice and great rewards."

"Great rewards," Dean scoffed.

"Yeah," Sam agreed, "maybe we get those later."

After a moment, Sam stood and turned toward his brother. He reached down and pulled him to his feet and began to try undress him, but Dean was resistive and combative. Sam was used to this. They had had this wrestling match many times before, and as always, Dean eventually gave up.

Sam took off Dean's heavy shirt but left his t-shirt on as Dean always slept in whatever t-shirt and pair of boxers he had worn that day. He was not as fussy as Sam about such things as clean clothes. Now the dicey part, although it had never been an issue before, the events of earlier made idea of taking off Dean's pants made Sam feel very awkward, so he hesitated.

Dean noticed and said loudly, "Oh, go on then."

Sam had always found it easier to undo his brother's belt and pants from behind, so he slowly turned Dean around to face the bed and reached around him and unfasted his belt and jeans while Dean looked down and watched. Sam then slid his hands down into Dean's open jeans, but over his underwear, and slid the jeans down as far as they would go before they bunched up stopping them from going any lower than his knees. He turned Dean back around and pushed him onto the bed. He then reached down and grasped the jeans by their cuffs and pulled them off him. He put them and the shirt in to the laundry bag and then added the socks which Dean had removed himself and handed to him.

Dean, now exhausted, had laid back onto the bed with his legs hanging off the side. Sam grabbed Dean's legs under the knees and kind of rolled him onto the bed which left him in an odd position. Feeling uncomfortable, Dean adjusted himself, so he lay straight on the bed on his back, his T-shirt had ridden up exposing much of his smooth midriff. Sam leaned down with the intent pulling it back down but enticed, he used the back of his hand to caress Dean's exposed midsection. He swirled his hand in a circular motion over Dean's taunt midriff.

Dean's head came up, and he looked down at what was happening and asked in an unexpectedly calm voice, "Now what are you doing?"

"I'm just," Sam let that statement fall away and then asked, "Do you mind?"

Dean sighed and laid his back down. Sam continued caressing his bother. He leaned further down and gently slid both hands under Dean's t-shirt and raised it higher exposing more of his brother's powerful body. He passed his hands over Dean's broad chest, stopping to rub his palms lightly several times over his brother's tan nipples, before letting them slide down along his sides. When he got to Dean's boxers, he grasped each side and began to work them down.

"No," said Dean.

Stopping, Sam asked, "No, what?"

"No, I suppose I don't mind," Dean said tersely, but he did mind. He minded greatly in fact.

Sam resumed trying to slide Dean boxers off and sensing they were impeded, Dean lifted his ass off the bed, so Sam could slide them down and off.

Sam dropped the boxers at the foot of the bed and turned to admire his brother's masculine build. He slipped off his lounge pants and underwear in a single, smooth movement and pulled his own t-shirt up under his arms before he climbed atop his brother.

Holding himself up on his hands, Sam began to grind against Dean

Dean felt Sam's penis against his body. It was large and erect.

Sam began to hump his brother. Rubbing his hard penis against him, he slid it gently over Dean's pubic hair. He would occasionally look down to watch his penis slide over his brother's body. It was tipped with precum. He purposefully rubbed his penis against Dean's which began to harden. Sam pressed them together playfully. He angled his body to push and mash their testicles together occasionally.

With Dean now erect, Sam lay down fully onto his brother. He slipped his arms under his brother's. Dean exhaled as he felt the full weight of his brother on him. He spread his legs wider to accept Sam who began to pump his hips against him in earnest.

Sam resisted the urge to kiss his brother, so instead, he turned his face and pressed his mouth to Dean's ear and whispered, "yeah, that feels so good. Does that feel good Dean?"

Dean said nothing. He lifted his arms and reached across Sam's back and held on to him. "Uh, uh," he grunted into Sam's ear with each fall of his brother's powerful, heavy hips.

Pumping faster, Sam whispered into his brother's ear, "I'm getting close."

Dean pulled his knees up into the air.

"Yeah," Sam said, "I'm cumming. I'm cumming." Sam grunted and thrusted hard against Dean as he came.

Panting, he stopped grinding and lay upon his brother till he caught his breath. When he was ready, he rolled off Dean and onto his side. He looked down at Dean's crotch and was surprised by what he saw.

"Did you cum too?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, I did," answered Dean in a defeated voice.

Sam smiled as he rolled off the bed and made for the bathroom.

Dean lay on his bed bewildered. He had actually enjoyed that, and he hated himself for it.

Sam came back into the room with a warm wash cloth in one hand and a towel in the other. He cleaned and dried his brother thoroughly. Once done, he threw the wash cloth into the tub and hung the towel over the shower rod. He put back on his underwear and lounge pants and climbed into his bed.

Dean in his T-shirt but no boxers, pulled the covers over himself.

Sam said, "Thanks for that Dean, good night."

There was a long, long silence until it was finally broken by Dean.

He simply said, "Good night Sammy."


	3. Chapter 3

Dean awoke in a tumble of constraining bed linens. He slowly opened his bloodshot, hazel eyes. He felt the physical pain of an intense, whisky induced hang-over. Without moving, he could see his brother Sam sitting at the desk of their seedy motel room. Steel gray morning light was slanting into the room through a gap in the room's blinds, it appeared Sam was looking through the gap into the parking lot.

"Keeping watch," thought Dean.

Dean wondered, as his head throbbed painfully, how long Sam had been quietly sitting there. "Minutes, hours, days," he pondered. He knew Sam would sit there for as long as it took for Dean to wake up. Sam would not disturb him; he was too considerate nor would he let anything happen to him. Dean thought how had the shoe been on the other foot and Sam was the one sleeping off a hang-over, things would go very differently. Dean would roust him for his bed and bully him to get cleaned up and dressed, no matter how Sam felt or protested, all under the pretense that what he was doing was for Sam's own good. Dean realized that was exactly how his father had treated him and even though he hated it; he seemed determined to treat his brother the same way.

Dean thought to himself, "That needs to change." He thought about the previous nights events. The sexual contact he had with his brother came into his mind and his stomach lurch so suddenly that it felt like an electric shock.

"Oh!" he bellowed involuntarily.

Sam started. He turned to his brother and asked, "You ok?"

Dean yelled, "No!" and instantly regretted it. He put his hand over his eyes as his pounding headache intensified with movement and sound.

"There's water and aspirin by the bed," Sam said.

Dean looked over to the night-side table. On it sat a clear, plastic, motel cup filled with water and a bottle of aspirin which obviously had been prepared for him by Sam. Dean didn't hesitate. He opened the bottle and poured four or so tablets of aspirin directly into his mouth and washed them down with the contents of the cup. Eyes closed, he held the cup out. Sam understood. He got up from his chair and took the cup from Dean, refilled it from the bathroom sink and handed it back to him. Dean drank it straight down too but now he was starting to feel queasy.

"What time is it?" Dean inquired weakly.

"It's after eleven," Sam answered.

While that would be considered late in the day for most people to be getting up, the Winchesters were night owls. They spent most of their time in darkness, also sleep was not a friend of theirs. Their father rarely slept more than a few hours a day which was a trait he had passed on to Dean but Sam on the other hand, if allowed, he could sleep for days. It was a sign of his depression. Sam had been using sleep as an avoidance tool since he was very young.

Dean tried to sit up but was impeded by the tangle of bed linens. He grew frustrated quickly and began to thrash and mock punch the sheets and blankets which made Sam laugh.

"Oh, there's nothing funny going on here Sam." Dean barked as he freed himself from the bedding.

Sam murmured, "Sorry."

Dean sat up and noticed he wasn't wearing his boxers and pulled the sheet over his exposed gentiles.

Sam picked up his boxers from the floor and held them out. Dean snatched them away and used them to replace the sheet.

Dean had had all the intention of getting up and using the bathroom but upon sitting up he became intensely dizzy and flushed.

Sam again inquired, "Are you alright because you look terrible."

"No Sam, I am not alright. I have the world's worst hang-over, and I have you." he said looking straight at Sam while drawing out the last sentence as an accusation.

"What's that supposed to mean," Sam inquired looking injured.

Dean regretted saying that as soon as he looked at Sam and thought, "There it is! There's the face."

Dean had been looking at Sam's sad visage his whole life. Sam was a sad child, a sad teenager and now a sad adult, and Dean resented him for it. Mostly because he felt it was his fault. He had tried always to interject some happiness into their lives, but he was usually thwarted by circumstance or their father.

So, here it was again, Sam's sad face. Dean hated that look so much. It pulled at his heartstrings. He loved his brother intensely. When Sam had run away to attend college Dean was crushed. He looked out at the world and felt so genuinely alone, he thought he would die of despair. He needed Sam more than Sam would ever know.

"I don't want to talk about it," Dean said trying to avoid saying what he was thinking.

"No Dean, tell me what's on your mind, "demanded Sam.

Dean, while putting on his boxers and standing up, began a mumbling ramble, "Tell you what's on my mind. You know want to know what I'm thinking. I don't know what I'm thinking. You're making me crazy is what I'm thinking."

"What?" asked Sam.

"You're making me crazy Sam," Dean hissed toward his brother.

"I know; I'm sorry," said Sam sadly.

"You know! I don't think you do," Dean barked adding, "I don't think what happened last night was all about "loneliness". He had made quotation mark gestures with his hands as he said the word loneliness for added emphasis. Sam didn't reply. When he was about to there came a rap at the door.

Sam moved to the door cautiously and peered through the peephole. Seeing the motel's lady desk clerk, he turned to Dean and cocked his head in the direction of the bathroom. Dean understood that to mean whomever it was on the other side of the door was not a threat but also not someone who should see Dean in his boxers.

Sam opened the door slightly and placed himself in the narrow gap he created.

The middle-aged women who had checked them previously said angrily, "It's after eleven. You guys either need to go or pay for another night. I need to get this room ready for another guest."

Sam replied gently, "I know. I'm sorry. We're running at bit behind. We overslept."

"Could we have until eleven-thirty?" he pleaded, adding, "I promise we'll be out by then."

She looked at Sam. He was so handsome and seemed like a nice boy.

"Ok," she said, adding, "eleven-thirty, no later."

Sam smiled and, in lieu of saying thank you, reached out and grasped her by the wrist and gave it a squeeze. She smiled back feeling as if she had done her good deed for the day. Years later, her daughter would tell the story of how in her mother's last moments of life she suddenly smiled. Her mother had smiled because it was at the moment of death, she realized, she had been touched by an angel.

Sam closed the door and yelled in the general direction of the bathroom, "We have twenty minutes to vacate."

No reply from Dean. He had to have heard, so Sam didn't push it. He began preparing to leave and started transporting their belongings to the Impala but left Dean's duffle bag for last as he still needed to get dressed. With everything else loaded, Sam sat again in the chair by the desk and kept watch.

Dean had showered, brushed both his teeth and hair, shaved and was now ready to confront his brother. He grabbed his shaving kit and burst from the bathroom demanding to know, "Are you gay?"

"What!" Sam replied while getting to his feet.

Dean crossed the room and started rummaging through his duffle bag.

"Dean you know I'm not," Sam stated emphatically.

"I don't know anything anymore," Dean fumed while selecting clothes for the day which he lobbed onto his bed.

"Well, I wouldn't exactly call what's been happening between us normal. Would you?" Dean asked.

"Ok Dean, be carful with that word," Sam said.

"What word," Dean questioned while he began to dress.

"Normal, it implies that people who are different are abnormal. It's insulting." Sam explained.

Dean thought on that for a moment and agreed. It did seem wrong to call people "abnormal" for something like being gay especially given the types they were used to dealing with.

Dean was not inclined to believe Sam so he pressed him by asking, "Is there anything you want to tell me?"

"Well, I guess," Sam faultered. He was unsure how to go on.

Dean gathered his boots and sat on the bed. He put on a pair of camping socks he had selected while waiting for his brother to continue. As he started pulling his boots on, he pressed Sam again by shouting, "Well!"

Sam was standing with his hands on his hips when he furrowed his brow and put one hand out toward his brother and said, "I'm not gay but I am kind of," Sam searched for the right word and said, "fluid".

"Fluid?" Dean questioned. He had never heard this term applied to a person.

Sam said awkwardly, "Yeah, not gay but you know, not exactly straight" he paused, "I am more fluid. While I was at college,"

"College!" Dean interrupted, "is that when all this started?" Dean now had another reason to resent Sam's college excursion.

"Well, yeah, I had some experiences there, but I had others before that. There really isn't a beginning but at college I got more of a sense of who I am and more comfortable with it." Sam explained.

Dean had finished putting on his boots and sat in silence trying to process what Sam had just told him. He remembered something. They had been living in a small, seedy town for a few months when Dean returned home one afternoon and found one of Sam's current teenage friends in the living room looking flustered.

"What's going on Penn?" Dean had inquired.

"Nothing! just waiting for Sam to come out of the bathroom," he had answered somewhat fearfully.

Dean now wondered if he might have interrupted something. Coming back to reality and still angry Dean asked, "So that's your explanation for what happened last night? You're lonely and you're fluid."

"Yeah, a short-hand version of it anyway," Sam answered then he added, "Here's a question for you Dean."

"What's that?" Dean asked curtly.

Sam asked him,"Why did you let it happen?"

That question caught Dean up short. He had no idea. He was as stunned with himself as he was with his brother's proclamation of being fluid. Not being able to answer, Dean picked up his duffle bag, marched to the door but Sam got there first. He held a hand out to Dean and said, "I want to know Dean."

"Well, I don't know Sam, and I don't want to think about it, ok, so just get out of the way," Dean retorted angrily.

Sam refused to give way. He held his ground. Dean took a step back and squared off with him. He considered his options. He could force his way out but of course that would be a fight and god knows Sam could put up a ferocious battle or he could tell him the only reason he could come up with for why he let those sexual encounters happen.

He chose the latter and yelled, "What happened last night happened because you wanted it to happen, and I let it happen because I love you."

Sam relaxed and dropped his hand. "I love you too," he said as he opened the door.

Dean went to the door, gave the parking lot a quick scan and made for the Impala with his smiling brother close at his heel.


End file.
